Gambler's Loss
by atriedies
Summary: Hagrid stops to play high stakes poker while delivering baby Harry to the Dursleys.


**Gambler's Loss**

This story is a complete work of fiction. Nothing is owned by me, not even the idea. The idea is one of Rorshach's Blot from the Caer Azkaban group. Speaking of which, Hagrid's speech and accent are to be maintained in your own head. The writer therefore disavows any knowledge of your mangling the lines written. Sadly not everyone can speak or think like a half-giant without getting a migraine. Therefore it is recommended to drink a bottle of Ogden's Old before reading.

"There we go," the rider spoke as his motorcycle touched down in front of the drab, grey building. A solitary light shone above a red door. The only visible entrance into the building. "You all right there Harry?" Hagrid questioned as he bent over to check the sidecar. Only a mop of black hair could be seen. The boy in question remained sound asleep, oblivious to the world changing around him. The sleeping charm Madame Pomfrey placed on the baby after his checkup, ensured a quiet peaceful journey.

"Don't worry now, It'll only take me a few minutes in here to check this out and we'll be on are way then. Dumbledore won't even realize we stopped." The half-giant took one last look at the toddler before stepping off the bike.

"Now to find out if they were telling me the truth," he mumbled to himself before entering the building. A quick glance around showed a nearly empty bar. A couple of fellows were waving their arms about in random way that seemed to be an argument of some quidditch play. Other then the barkeep, no one else was in sight.

"The usual Hagrid?" the barkeep inquired.

"I need something to wet my throat after that drive," Hagrid replied.

"Coming right up," the barkeep stated before grabbing a bottle of fire-whiskey, a beer mug, and a tiny umbrella. The mug slid to a stop in front of Hagrid shortly after.

"One mug of Ogden's Old."

Hagrid eyed the drink. Removing the tiny umbrella, he placed it on the counter before draining the whole mug in one go.

."One of these days you'll let me in on the reason for the umbrella won't you Hagrid," the still unnamed barkeep questioned.

Tilting his head up, Hagrid stared at the ceiling as if thinking of a response. His mouth opened as if to reply before belching out a flaming inferno.

"Hit the spot that did," he mumbled. Lowering his head to face the bartender he stated, "Never turn down an umbrella. Dead useful they are ".

Leaving the bar, the half-giant headed to the staircase at the back of the room. Hopefully the information given proved to be right. Dragon eggs were difficult to come by. For one to pop up now, it had to be his lucky day.

"That's far enough." Two goblins in leather armor with bright green vests that said security halted Hagrid's progress. The name badges pinned to the front of the vest identified them as Thumbsucker and Yellowbelly. The good names like Ripclaw, Tooth-gnasher, and Gut-ripper weren't just handed out to anybody. You had to earn them. What better way then to give young goblins names to build character? Getting beat on and made fun of everyday developed this so-called character. Barring that, the goblins in question did develop tough skin at the least... Waving two magical sensor batons around him (heaven forbid you call them wands and have the goblins rebel for the fourth time this decade), they checked for the presence of any foreign magic. Seeing they were goblins and he was a half-giant. The wa... the batons barely reached his knees.

"Okay your clear to go," the one named Yellowbelly said. Thumbsucker waved him on pass. The next checkpoint held a confused looking wood-troll, a hag, and a desk. All it seemed that twas missing for the old joke was a wiz... 'wait a minute', Hagrid thought... The subtlety of being the butt of the joke here never registered as that train of thought suddenly failed.

Between the desk and the troll there was no room to pass. The hag sitting behind the desk held a chain leash. Said leash led to a collar around the troll's neck.

"You know the drill yummy. I mean sonny," the hag spoke. Her tongue flicked out to lick the hair on her upper lip. "No wands or weapons beyond this point."

"Right you are there miss," Hagrid replied.

Reaching into his pockets, he started pulling out various knives, an axe, two hedge clippers, a wooden club, three darts, five metal bushings, a hubcap from a 1976 Triumph Stag, and a broken arrow. He placed all of them on the desk in front of the hag.

"There we go then."

The Hag looked him over, "Whats that in the vest pocket?"

Hagrid reached into the pocket, a sheepish look formed on his face as he pulled out a giant pair of brass knuckles. "Sorry, I forgot I had that one on me. Must have not put it up after playing with junior." The hag's eyebrows rose in disbelief at that statement.

"He's one of the manticores living in the forest," Hagrid continued. "Me and his dad go way back."

Ignoring the rest of his mumbling the hag picked up a silver key from the desk.

"You may pass," the hag solemnly intoned. A slight flash of light signaled the acceptance of Hagrid into the hallway's ward access list. The troll moved to the side, in obedience to the hag's pulling of the leash, allowing Hagrid to continue on his journey down the hallway.

Two right turns and three stairways later Hagrid reached his destination. A desk at the end of the hallway signified the third and final checkpoint. Sitting behind the desk in a black tuxedo, a pale skinned, non-breathing entity looked over Hagrid closely. The name plate in front of him identified him as Vlad.

"Name?" Vlad inquired.

His partner at the checkpoint who by utter coincidence also wore a tuxedo stared Hagrid down. Daring him to give the wrong answer if it were. A name badge on his tux identified him as Vlad.

"Hagrid."

Vlad skimmed through the papers on the clipboard before stopping on the seventh page, "He's on the list."

"Sign here please," Vlad handed him the clipboard and a black quill. A X marked the spot by his name on the paper.

"Bloody vampires and their bloody quills," Hagrid grumbled as he signed. A large H followed by an unreadable jumble of squiggles filled the line. The crimson red ink standing out against the white page.

Both vampires nostrils flared as they inhaled the aroma brought by the use of the blood quill.

"You're free to enter," Vlad stated upon receiving the clipboard with the freshly signed page.

Hagrid opened the door and entered the room beyond. He took two steps into the room allowing the door to close behind him. A single table was the only piece of furniture in the room. Upon it stood an empty mug. A sign behind the mug stated 'I'm a port-key, pick me up'. He reached forward and picked up the mug.

"Blasted Vampires and their bloody pranks," he growled as nothing happened.

He reached to pick up the sign behind the cup. At least he tried to. Upon contact, everything started spinning, as he portkeyed away.

With the door shut, Vlad looked at Vlad, "Do you think they'll ever figure out they don't have to sign?"

"Remember who you're talking about. They all seem to think every evil vampire is named Vlad. Your a vampire... Your name must be Vlad."

"Very true Sal, though it's not like we encourage that belief with fake name badges at all is it?"

"Wouldn't matter at all I think John," the vampire now known as Sal replied. "Wizard's and common sense don't belong in the same building, much less the same room. It's a side effect of of constant exposure to the use of magic. Think of it as magical radiation. Only it has good and bad side effects. Good in that it helps prolong your life. Bad in that it affects how you think. Why do you think Dumbledore is such a nutter? Not only is his age a part of it, but he lives at Hogwarts."

"Are you sure your not the nutter?" the newly named John asked.

"Seriously, the majority of wizard's have lost the ability to recognize 'common sense' by the time they are thirty. A harmless prank like making them use blood quills at a security checkpoint doesn't even raise their eyebrows. They all assume it's part of the security agreement to help maintain the aura of mystery for what's behind the door."

"This is the first time I've heard that theory," remarked John

"Well... I've been studying that idea for a few hundred years now. It's the only thing that I've seen fits when it comes to wizard and their actions."

The Portkey deposited the disgruntled half-giant in a new room.

"Coat please," the female attendant stated. Hagrid handed her his Mokeskin jacket. Accepting his receipt, he walked into the main room of the building. Immediately the pedestal in the center of the room caught his eyes. His whole reason for being here. On top of the pedestal stood a gold goblet. Resting in it lay the pale grey egg of a dragon. A sign on the pedestal proclaimed it to be an Antipodean Opaleye. Scattered around the rest of the room were twelve tables with seating for five at each. The majority were already occupied. The setup for this poker tournament seemed to be 4 players with a house dealer per table. Things were definitely looking up. Now all he had to do was win.

* * *

A gray tabby sat motionless on the garden wall of 4 Privet Drive. It appeared to be peering at the current inhabitants of the residence via the windows. Considering the intelligence level of cats, only a freak would think something of that nature. Lights in the surrounding neighbourhood slowly started to blink out. An apparent cascading power failure that stopped abruptly at house number 4. An old man in appearance, with a long grey beard, slowly walked out of the darkness. In fact, if he only had a lot more girth to his stomach and carried a bag over his shoulder, one might have thought he was old saint Nick come a few months early to deliver gifts. Though why old saint Nick would be wearing a purple robe with flashing gold suns and bright silver moons boggles the mind. Maybe a stint in the Little Whinging Institution of Mental Health would solve matters.

"Greetings Minerva," said the outlandishly dressed old man to the sitting tabby. The cat in question jumped from the wall. A stern looking woman wearing spectacles replaced it.

"Professor," the woman greeted. "Is it true Hagrid is bringing him here?"

"Yes. At least after Madame Pomfrey releases Harry. Young Sirius Black lent Hagrid his motorbike for the journey. They should be along shortly," the professor responded.

"Does he have to come here? I've followed that man all day. He is the worst sort of muggle."

"Alas, his wife Petunia is Lily's only blood relative. Whatever she did that allowed Harry to survive with that nasty scar must be maintained. That will only happen if Harry calls this place his home," the professor replied.

"Everyone is saying he survived the killing curse. Is it true? Did you-know-who cast the killing curse at a baby?", inquired Minerva.

"Honestly I don't know. While he was famous for using it on all his victims. There is no proof what he cast other then a scar covered in dark magic. Voldemort and his wand both disappeared."

A loud rumble filled the air interrupting the conversation. A flying motorbike touched down upon the road and came to a stop nearby.

"Here we are professor Dumbledore. All safe and sound," a slightly disgruntled half-giant spoke from his seat upon the bike. Professor Dumbledore walked over to the bike's side-car. He picked up the bundle inside it.

"Hagrid," he spoke slowly. A grim look appeared on his face. "Where's Harry?" In his hands, a pile of empty blankets lay.

* * *

For now this teaser is complete. The idea: Idea 649 (Hagrid looses Harry Potter in a poker game with a group of layabouts.) as stated above came from Rorshach's Blot. While the disgruntled voice may indicate Hagrid didn't win the dragon egg. It could be he did win but didn't like the price it cost him. What took place to have harry vanish is currently left up to the reader. Did he bet something and didn't realize Harry could be considered it? Did someone(wizard, goblin, house elf, thief, etc..) take Harry from the motorbike? Did harry vanish on his own do to a nightmare and accidental magic? As in the immortal question "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?" The world may never know.


End file.
